


Cold

by GrytpypeThynne



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Showers, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrytpypeThynne/pseuds/GrytpypeThynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade does not enjoy being cold. On a chilly winter’s night, Mycroft Holmes is late for the first time and his tardiness incites a powerful reaction from the Detective Inspector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

It was the first time he’d been late. Surprisingly, given how busy Mycroft was, it was the first time. Even if there was a crisis in the third world, regardless of the state of the country and the world, Mycroft always managed to have a car arrive as Greg was leaving. Occasionally he’d not be in it himself, or he’d bring ‘Anthea’ and issue instructions en route but he never left Greg stranded.

Greg shifted from foot to foot as he tried to ignore the cold. His breath frosted as he exhaled in a long, exasperated breath. _Christ, but it was cold._ He removed his hands from his pockets and rubbed them together in a vain attempt to warm them. _Where the hell was he?_ It hadn’t been a bad day, but it was turning into one.

As Greg peered at the cars that passed him, he thought of all the reasons Mycroft could have to abandon him. It wasn’t Sherlock; if Mycroft had a problem with his brother, he would have enlisted Greg’s help. Work then, but what could possibly surpass nuclear fallout (last month) financial ruin (last week) or royal assassination (yesterday)? All of which had resulted in a Mycroft-less car, which was nonetheless a car, a warm, dry car.

As five minutes became ten, which then became a half hour, Greg became increasingly pissed off by the lack of news. Several times he’d fumbled in his trouser pocket to retrieve his phone and found no message of explanation or apology. He saw the car in the distance, notable for its quiet, understated aura of money and swore, before turning and walking to the nearest tube station. He heard the horns in the distance and ignored them, moving into a sedate jog as the car picked up the pursuit.

He went back to his flat and turned on every heater he owned. Hastily removing outer layers, he turned on the shower and stood in it, still in his shirt, trousers and shoes. He turned his face upwards, trying to melt his frozen cheeks; he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but it wasn’t long enough.

“So,” Mycroft’s voice cut through his warm paradise. “You ran away from the car.” Greg opened his eyes and saw him standing in the hallway, carefully examining the turn of his umbrella handle. Greg didn’t know what to say.

“You were late,” he finally said, tone wavering between apologetic and accusatory.

“I was. Did you know you’ve got 11 different heat sources in this flat?” Greg blushed slightly.

“I was cold.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows and Greg saw that beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead.

“And are you still cold?” he asked, stepping inside the bathroom and hanging his umbrella on the towel rack. Greg nodded. Mycroft slowly took off his jacket and placed it beside the umbrella; his tie followed. Greg watched as he stepped into the shower, flinching slightly as he felt the water’s heat. He pushed into Greg as he reached to turn on the cold tap. Greg took a step back, watching as Mycroft’s expensive clothing was soaked. “Where?”

“Um… what?” He had been distracted by the way the wet shirt clung to Mycroft’s chest.

“Where are you cold?” Mycroft repeated patiently.

“My nose.” Mycroft lent over and kissed Greg gently on the tip of his nose.

“Where else?”

“My – my cheeks.” Now Mycroft pulled him closer, holding Greg’s body against his own as he kissed both cheeks. “And my lips,” he said, letting Mycroft softly, sweetly warm them with his own. Mycroft pulled away slowly.

“Where else?”


End file.
